Page 105 of Paper Horses

The driver greeted me and took the bags from me. As he shut the trunk, Olivia’s hand rested on my arm. Twisting around, I inhaled, the act like nails scraping down my throat. She’d put her coat on and tied it around her waist. She could have been a model, she looked so poised, perfect, and beautiful.

I didn’t know what to say to her. Tell her how agonizing this was? Confess my love again? Beg her to stay? It wouldn’t matter. She had to leave. We’d both known she would. Our only mistake was believing this could last. And maybe it would…once she figured things out. Unable to stop myself, I reached out and tangled my hand in her hair, pulling her mouth to mine. She went limp in my arms, her mouth parting for me, emotion surging forth and embedding itself into my soul. Her hands climbed up my chest, a whimper slipping through her lips and only causing me to deepen the kiss.

When she was breathless, her body trembling, I parted my lips from hers, ending the kiss.

“I love you, Olivia Icinda. Every facet of you, every inch of you. You don’t have to be perfect for me or anyone. No matter who you are, I’ll always love you.”

Emotion flickered in her eyes, but no tears came. She wouldn’t let herself cry, not this version of her.

“I know, and that’s why I need to leave.”

Her words were like a sword that cleaved my chest in two.

“Because I love you?”

“Because you love someone I don’t know and I need to find her, to…love her, too, before I can let you love me without the fight.” My words in the shower. Ones that had shifted the mood and pushed her to this point.

I nodded, and she took my face in her hands. Searching her eyes, I covered her hands with my own.

“And if you never return to me?”

She flinched, and I knew it was a possibility. That she would never find herself, that the mask would reform and she would force herself to forget who she was with me. To forget that I loved her.

“I love you, Hudson.” She brought my face down and kissed me again. As her lips separated from mine in a slow, hesitant moment, she exhaled as if she were leaving something behind. A hint of her soul, a sliver of her love, a reminder of her touch. Before I could soak it in, she was gone. Climbing into the car without looking back. The driver gave me a sad look as he closed her door and walked to the front of the car.

I stood there, staring at the driveway long after the car had left, tears streaking their way down my cheeks, my hands too gripped against the onslaught of anguish to wipe them away.

Chapter 25

Liv

The door clicked behind me, but I didn’t turn as it shut. Silence hung over my apartment, louder than it ever had. I missed the quiet of Hudson’s place, the calm, the peacefulness that it held. This silence was stifling, constrictive, like it was pressing against my ears and invading my mind. I removed my coat, walking to the table where the bellhop had placed the bag Hudson had packed. Every step reminded me of a rubber band, stretching until it had no more give.

The urge to turn and run back to Montana was thrumming through me with the thought that I had left a part of myself there that I would never find by running back here. Pressure built behind my eyes, but I shoved it back. There had been no more tears since I’d made my decision, and there would be no more.

Resting my hands on the table, I tried to brush off the sensation that continued in my chest. A hollowed out one where something scraped and scraped, as if there was more to give. I pushed from the table and went to my room to unpack. I had left everything behind that had no place here: the jeans, the T-shirts, the socks. All of it. Whether to avoid the reminders of Hudson or the reminders of how I had changed, I wasn’t certain. It may have even been a subconscious decision to leave something of me there, a connection I could return to. A ridiculous notion, considering the connection was already there, tethered to my pulse, to my very existence now.

Once I unpacked, I returned to the table, crossing my arms and studying the plain brown bag with its thick handles. Fear nudged at me, telling me to walk away from it, that what was inside would hurt. I wasn’t so sure anything could hurt worse than this. I closed my eyes, thinking of Hudson’s touch on my skin, his lips on mine, his breath against my neck. We’d spent our last days in each other’s arms, my upset stomach and the things he’d picked me up in town forgotten in the desperate need to soak in what we could.

My arms squeezed tighter around me as I fought against the memories. This was for the best. I couldn’t afford to be soft. I couldn’t be who he wanted me to be. I’d lost that girl too many years ago, and finding her again had opened wounds that rubbed painfully against my identity. I hadn’t lied to him. I didn’t know who I was anymore. I was a confused jumble of memories and thoughts that I couldn’t sort, not with him there.

Loosening my arms, I reached into the bag, pulling out pieces of what I’d left behind. Thoughtful gifts he’d bought to make me feel better, to take care of me. I set the candle aside, my hand shaking as it latched onto a pair of socks. Rabbits. Damn him and Sheila.

I clutched the socks to my chest, fighting the tug of tears I had locked away behind the wall I’d rebuilt. There was no place for tears here because men didn’t cry, so neither did I. The socks fell next to the candle, and I pulled out a few more items before the romance book came out.

A laugh slipped from me. Of all the genres to choose, he picked the one I never touched. Mysteries, thrillers, horror. Those were safe reads. Romance opened me to pain, and I refused to let it into my life anymore, so I never read romances. They were a reminder of what I’d lost.

I put the book aside, thinking I’d pass it on to Tori. She was the romantic, and I’d seen the books on the built-ins Gabe had installed for her at the house.

Below the book was a journal. Soft and pink.

“Pink?” I asked aloud, as if Hudson would offer me an explanation. “I hate pink.”

The journal hung in my hand as I remembered I hadn’t always hated pink, and he knew that. God, he knew me too well, even after all this time.

At the bottom of the bag was a hatbox. Reid’s cowboy hat. He must have picked it up for me, and here I’d forgotten all about it. I couldn’t stop my smile as I pulled the box out, but opening it had the smile scattering like a leaf caught in the wind. I closed the box, the reminder of Hudson too stark.

My phone buzzed, my heart leaping but coming to a halt when I saw that it was only Gabe and not Hudson. What had I thought? That he would text me when I’d walked out on him again?